It's been about three weeks since I took up dual-wielding. A few days have passed since I learned the Dawn stance of Regalia's Twilight Blade art. The morning was cool, but the atmosphere in the academy courtyard buzzed with tension. Students crowded the walkways, murmuring in small groups, eyes lifted toward the high-set crystal speakers across the campus.
Adrien and I walked side by side toward our next class when a chime echoed through the air.
"Attention, Dalton students," came the sharp, clear voice of Helene Eventrap, assistant to the headmaster.
Everyone paused. Even the wind seemed to be still.
"Due to an unprecedented number of applicants for this year's Ascension Clash, the academy has decided to conduct mandatory preliminary matches to determine qualification."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The murmurs turned into heated whispers and scattered curses.
"All interested students must register their intent by the end of today. Match brackets will be finalized by the end of the week. Failure to participate in the preliminaries means forfeiture of your spot in the main event."
A pause.
"Fight well. Or don't fight at all." The intercom clicked off.
I exhaled slowly. Adrien looked over, unsurprised. "You were planning to enter, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah. But now it's a fight to get in."
Around us, groups of students had already started huddling, strategizing, posturing, whispering rumors. Some scanned the crowd, sizing up the threats. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Rhett standing with a few other upperclassmen. Hes eyes met mine for a second. Rhett smirked, and I nodded back.
"Word's out about you," Adrien said, folding his arms. "They're watching. They've noticed you got sharper—but no one knows why. That's a good thing."
"Or a target on my back," I muttered.
'From across the square, a sharp whistle pierced the air. "Hey, Reyes!"
I turned. Amber, flanked by Sera, jogged over.
"You heard?" Amber asked.
"Hard not to," I replied.
Sera studied my expression. "You're entering."
I nodded. "I have to."
Amber grinned. "Good. I want to see you tear through a few people. Just make sure you leave something for the rest of us."
I smirked, but something behind my eyes stayed distant. Focused.
Sera stepped a little closer. "You ready for this? Really?"
I met her gaze. "I've been training for months. Whoever they put in front of me... I won't break."
She studied me for a second longer, then smiled faintly. "Then we'll see you in the ring."
Later that evening, I walked through the quiet hallway—a new energy coursed through the academy. Everyone was sharpening blades, tuning gear, whispering names. My name was now among them. For the first time... it meant something. I touched the hilt of my training sword, still warm from drills, and exhaled deeply.
A lot was coming in the not-so-distant future. Prelims, midterms, the Ascension Clash... if I were to face them, I wouldn't need just to survive them. I'd needed to rise. But there's one thing I needed to do first. I needed to find her. I jogged over to the only place I could imagine if she was still in the building.
The heavy sports of the headmaster's office loomed taller than usual. I stood before them, steadying my breath. I knew I didn't need permission to register for the Clash publicly. But if I were going to fight under the radar, under her training... I needed Regalia to allow it. And deep down, I wanted her to say I was ready. I knocked.
The doors opened—not with magic but mechanically, smoothly, and elegantly. Inside, the room was bathed in warm candlelight and faint blue-glow crystal arrays. Charts, maps, and tactical displays lined the far wall. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and scorched ink. Regalia stood near a long conference table, arms crossed, posture as composed as ever.
Opposite her, lounging behind the wide mahogany desk, was Headmaster Evelyn Morte. Her dark eyes flickered up the moment I entered, her lips curling into something between amusement and curiosity.
"Well, well," she said, sipping her tea. "Speak of the devil... and he flames."
Regalia glanced over her shoulder, expression unreadable. "What are you doing here, Reyes?"
I stepped forward, bowing slightly out of habit. "I came to ask... for permission. To enter the Ascension Clash."
Regalia's eyes narrowed—not with surprise, but with hesitation. "You're not ready."
Evelyn raised a perfectly arched brow. "Mmm. I disagree."
I turned toward the headmaster. Evelyn smiled faintly. "I told myself I wouldn't interfere. Let the students climb on their own. Let them earn their way to the fire." She set her teacup down gently. "But you, Daniel... you've been busy. Quietly burning brighter than expected."
"I've trained," I said. "I've changed. And I'm not asking to be chosen. I'm claiming it."
Regalia's voice cut sharply. "This isn't a storybook declaration. If you lose control mid-match, there won't be another chance to hide what you are."
"I won't lose control," I declared, firmer this time. "Not like before."
Evelyn rose, stepping between us. "I saw you face the Hollow Reaper," she said to me, her tone smoother now. "I watched your instincts align. Not perfection. But will. Power without collapse."
She turned to Regalia. "He doesn't need protection anymore. He needs pressure."
Regalia's jaw tightened. "If the wrong opponent triggers his Wrath, he could flare—publicly. You know what that would mean."
I stood taller. "Then let me prove I can control it. Let me fight; if I fall short, I'll walk away. But don't hold me back because of what might go wrong."
There was silence. Regalia turned away, one hand clenching.
Evelyn stepped closer to her, tone soft. "You always feared legacy, Regalia. But what if this is yours—choosing someone who survives the weight of it?"
Regalia finally spoke, her voice quiet, cold, and reluctant. "Fine. Let him enter."
I exhaled slowly.
"But," Regalia added, turning to me with steel in her gaze, "you fight under your current identity—no flames beyond level one amplification. No demon traits. No Wrath spikes. You win clean—or you don't win at all."
I nodded, serious. "Understood, thank you, ma'am, for your guidance." I bowed.
Evelyn clapped her hands once, satisfied. "Wonderful. The boy ascends, the sword tests itself, and we all get a show."
She turned to me with a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Now go sign up. Your first opponent will be chosen after."
I bowed once again, this time with gratitude, and turned to leave. Just before I exited, Regalia's voice called after me—quieter now. "Daniel."
I paused at the door.
"You've earned your strength. But respect it, or you'll lose it faster than you gained it."
I looked back. "I will." Then, I stepped through the door and out into the night.
——————————————————————
The courtyard breeze was softer than usual. I walked silently, hands in my jacket pockets, eyes focused nowhere in particular. Moonlight spilled across the flagstone paths and trimmed hedges of the garden walkway—a quiet usually reserved for meditation or late-night cram sessions. It was time I used for myself—to think.
The preliminaries were set. My name will be on the board tomorrow. My body was ready, but was my will? I looked down at my hands. Calloused. Blistered. Steady. You fight clean, or not at all. Regalia's words echoed in my head like a blade sheathed behind my thoughts. I didn't fear the matches. I feared myself.
Just as I was about to sit on the edge of a stone bench, a sharp voice cut through the courtyard.
"Didn't know we let broken toys wander around."
I blinked, lifting my gaze toward the source. Across the far path, near the hedges, three students stood in a half-circle, smirking and leaning too close. In the center of their cruelty was a girl. Not tall, not postured. Her uniform was clean but modest, with long sleeves. Collar buttoned. Her hair is deep brown with moss green edges. Hair falling past her shoulders in soft, uneven waves. She stood with her arms loosely at her sides, a leatherbound book held at her chest. Her eyes were downcast, distant.
She wasnt being defiant, nor pleading. Just... tired. The tallest student sneered, mockingly bowing. "What's wrong? Your hands don't work? Or did your precious magic break?"
Another chimed in, laughing. "Come on, freak. Say something. Show us a trick. What was it they said about her? Illusionist, right? Can't even make herself disappear?"
Still, the girl said nothing. No tears, no threats. She simply stood there, like she'd decided long ago that fighting back only made things worse. I could feel my breath shorten. I didn't know who she was. I didn't know what she'd done—or hadn't. But I knew that look. I'd seen it in the mirror... before the fire.
Without a word, I started walking. The students didn't notice me until I was only a few feet away.
"Hey," I said, my voice calm but not soft.
The tall one turned. "Huh? You got business here, hothead?"
I stepped beside the girl, putting myself between her and them.
"She your girl or something?" one of them jeered.
"No," I replied. "She's a student. You're three. She's one. I don't care what the story is—this ends now."
The leader scoffed. "Or what, Reyes? You'll light us up? Use your fancy new footwork and make a show of it?"
I didn't flinch. "I don't need to fight you. I just need to make sure everyone else sees what you're doing. You want that?"
That gave them pause.
I tilted my head. "Go ahead. Throw a punch. Let's find out how fast the faculty responds to someone harassing a girl in the middle of the courtyard."
The silence that followed was razor-sharp. The tension cracked. Their leader clicked his tongue and turned. "Whatever. Not worth it."
The others followed, muttering curses as they faded into the shadows. Only then did I turn to the girl. She hadn't moved. I studied her expression—neutral, unreadable—but her hands trembled faintly around her book.
"You okay?" I asked.
She blinked, slowly, like the question surprised her more than the rescue. She gave a slight, hesitant nod.
I smiled. "Good. You don't have to take that, you know."
Still, she said nothing. I started to walk away, giving her space, but then paused. "Next time they try that, don't just stand there," I said gently, not scolding. "You're stronger than they think."
I didn't wait for a reply. I walked off into the courtyard's far arch, moonlight outlining my silhouette in gold.
——————————————————————
The girl hadn't moved. Her grip around the book had remained firm, but something inside her had shifted. She watched him walk away—tall, sure, calm in a way that didn't match the fury she'd seen in him before. Not here, not now. He didn't know her, but she knew him.
She'd watched him from afar, through veils of illusion and angled vantage points during the physical exams. She had studied his fire, his recklessness, the way he moved like someone with nothing to lose. But she hadn't expected this—this version of him. Kind. Unflinching. Protective. The weight of her chest stirred. Not fear. Not curiosity.
Something closer to... longing.
Like she'd just witnessed a piece of something she'd been missing—and didn't realize how badly she wanted. Her eyes lingered on the path he'd taken until the last echo of his steps faded. She said nothing, but in the silence, her hand brushed her chest. Once. Then, her lips parted quietly—not to speak his name, but to let out a slow, breathless exhale.
"...Of course it'd be you." Her voice was soft and knowing, but only to herself.
——————————————————————
Some time passed, and it was two days before the Ascension Clash preliminaries began. The hall was nearly silent. Only the soft rhythm of breath and the occasional scrape of steel broke the silence. Regalia and I moved in unison, sparring without words. Her blades cut clean, mine followed close behind. My second sword moved in tandem, the fire barely visible but present. Our footwork mirrored each other's—precise, sharp, controlled.
It was a rhythm only we shared now. The clash ended with both of them locking blades. My twin swords crossed against hers—a perfect standstill. Regalia held the position for a heartbeat, then stepped back, sheathing her weapons.
"That's enough," she said. "For today."
I lowered his blades, breathing steadily. "You're not correcting my stance," I noted.
"Because you didn't need it," she replied.
I gave her a small smile. "That's new."
Regalia didn't return the smile. She turned away slightly, staring out the high windows. The late sun bled through the glass, casting long shadows across the floor.
"...You're going to face more than just opponents in this clash," she said quietly.
I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"
She didn't look at me right away. "Pressure. Public eyes. The academy's expectations. If you make it far—if—you'll stop being 'the guy who improved.' You'll start being 'the anomaly.'"
She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing—not out of anger but worry. "I've seen students rise fast. And I've seen what it does to them when they stumble."
I let those words sink in. "Are you saying I shouldn't enter?" I asked carefully.
"No," she replied. "I'm saying I don't want you to forget what got you here."
She finally turned to face me. "It wasn't the crowd. It wasn't the power. It was the hours. The bruises. The balance. Discipline." Her voice softened. "And if you lose control... if Wrath breaks through in front of everyone..."
I stepped forward. "It won't."
She stared at me, unreadable.
I continued, "You've taught me more than how to fight. You taught me how to carry what I am, when to hold back, and when to act. You gave me structure."
I raised one hand, flame dancing faintly along the edge of my fingers—but it didn't lash. It flickered in rhythm with my breath. "I'm not going into this clash to win the crowd. I'm going in to prove that what you taught me works."
Regalia looked at me for a long moment. Then, she said something I didn't expect. She smiled.
"You remind me of my brother."
I blinked. "You have a brother?"
"Had," she said, voice quiet.
"He was strong. Driven. Carried too much on his shoulders. And he fell because no one ever told him he didn't have to do everything alone."
I took a step closer, my tone softer now.
"I'm not him."
"No," Regalia retorted. "You're you. That's why I said yes."
A pause. Then, she added, quieter: "Just... don't make me regret it, Danny."
My eyes widened slightly, and then I smiled. "Not a chance."
She rolled her eyes lightly. "Confident. As always."
We stood there a moment longer, not speaking. The training room felt different now—less like a battlefield, more like a farewell. Because we both knew—The next time I stood in front of a crowd, it wouldn't be as a student. It would be as a challenger.
The Grand Hall of Dalton Academy had never been louder. Hundreds of students packed the atrium, spilling from the spiral staircases and lining the balcony railings above. The central crystal display—usually reserved for academic announcements or mission rosters—now shimmered with flickering gold and silver overlays.
Above it all, projected in hovering script:
Ascension Clash Preliminaries — Tournament Roster
I stood at the back of the crowd with Adrien and Amber beside me. Sera wasn't far off, leaning against a marble column with her arms crossed, eyes scanning the screen. The tension was electric. Matches meant exposure. Exposure meant pressure. No one wanted to fall early—not with half the academy watching.
The screen pulsed once. Then, brackets appeared. 16 names. The crowd broke into gasps, cheers, and confused muttering as names rearranged and opponents locked into place. My eyes followed the shifting glow until I saw it:
Match 03 — Daniel Reyes vs. Kael Virein
I froze for a second.
Amber blinked. "...Kael? You got Kael Virein?"
Adrien let out a low whistle. "That's rough."
Sera stepped closer, her voice neutral but serious. "He's new. Transferred from the Highmartch Sector. Supposed to be some prodigy backed by the HEO. Top of his old school's rankings."
"The HEO? As in, The High Elemental Order?" Amber was gobsmacked, then grunted. "And they dropped him in the prelims? That's cold."
I stared at the name. Kael Virein. I had heard the name in whispers. A student who had joined only weeks ago and already won over half the instructors with his impeccable technique and polished aura control. There were even rumors that Kael wielded Glass and Sound—a rare and flashy combination. Fast, clean, overwhelming. Students around the hall were already murmuring.
"Kael's gonna breeze through this."
"Poor Reyes. Dude's strong, but Kael's been untouchable in demos."
"Still... wouldn't mind seeing them go at it."
"What if Reyes wins, though?"
My hands curled slightly at my sides, but not in anger, in focus. Adrien leaned in.
"Hey. You okay?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just means I get to test myself early."
Amber smirked. "You're handling this better than I would."
Sera stepped forward, her eyes meeting mine. "Everyone's watching now. But so what?" she said. "You don't need them to believe in you. You already know who you are."
I gave her a faint smile. "And I know what I've trained for."
Upon the screen, Kael's name glowed faintly, paired beside mine in perfect symmetry—the fan-favorite versus the quiet flame. The clash hadn't even started, but already, it was being talked about like a highlight match. And Me? I was ready for it.
A day passed, and the sun cast long amber lines across the upper terrace of Dalton Academy, where only a few students remained. Most had rushed off to spar or strategize. But I stayed behind, perched at the overlook rail, eyes quietly fixed on the lower training fields. Down below, surrounded by a small group of instructors and elite onlookers, was Kael Virein.
Even from this distance, I can feel his aura around him. It was distant. He wore a clean uniform and polished boots. His posture was proud but not arrogant. His white hair fell in light waves, faintly catching the sun. He kind of reminded me of Malik, but he was still different in many ways.
Despite everything, what struck me wasn't the way he moved. It was the stillness between his movements. Every step was exact. Every gesture is intentional. There was no wasted energy. His sword wasn't slung at his waist—it floated. Suspended in a thin, glass-like platform that shimmered faintly behind him.
I watched as Kael flicked a hand, and the sword danced forward, gliding across the air like a shard of crystal wind. But as it moved, there was no sound. Until there was. A pulsing thrum echoed from nowhere, sending two nearby training dummies skidding backwards as if struck by a wave of invisible pressure.
Glass splinters shot outward from the floating blade, sharp and controlled. Then, as they struck the field, they reformed, rebuilding the weapon with perfect symmetry mid-air. A student nearby flinched. An instructor clapped politely. Kael simply bowed his head, as if it were routine.
I narrowed my eyes. "...Glass and Sound," I muttered.
Behind me, Adrien stepped up. "You saw the report, too?"
"Not in action," I replied. "Until now."
Adrien folded his arms. "Glass is rare. Precision, projection, reconstruction. Throw Sound on top, and it's like fighting a swordsman with an orchestra in his head."
I stayed quiet.
I felt Adrien glance at me. "Nervous?"
I shook my head. "No. Just... studying the tempo."
Adrien smirked faintly. "Kael's the fan favorite for a reason. Controlled, graceful, hard to rattle."
"Which is why I need to be the opposite," I said.
Adrien blinked. "You're going to go loud?"
My lips curled into a faint smile. "I'm going to break the rhythm."
Below, Kael finished his routine, eyes lifting slightly toward the terrace long enough to lock eyes with me. Neither of us flinched. Neither one smiled. Just a quiet understanding. We see each other now. I stepped back from the rail. Tomorrow was the match, and the glass prodigy would face the boy of fire. We'll see what shatters first.
The next morning, the crowd roared like thunder in the enclosed arena. The preliminaries had begun. Match 01 had been a short but explosive brawl. Amber Gray dominated her opponent with raw strength and metal-reinforced strikes, taking the match in under three minutes. The crowd loved her swagger and power, and her cocky wink as she walked off sealed her popularity.
Match 02 was closer. Two second-years with rival elements—Ice and Steam—clashed in a drawn-out, calculated brawl. It ended with both fighters barely standing, but the Steam user edged out with a clever counter in the final moments. Whispers of strategy and rivalry buzzed through the stands.
Now, all eyes turned to the center ring. Projected across the crystal scoreboard above: Match 03 — Daniel Reyes vs. Kael Virein. I stepped out from the tunnel, blades holstered behind me, cloak brushing my boots as I walked into the light. The cheers were mixed—some excited, some uncertain. I was definitely what Regalia told me a while back: a question mark.
Kael entered from the opposite gate elegantly—his uniform pristine, his floating sword drifted lazily at his side. The crowd responded instantly: Cheers, applause. A few camera drones hovered closer. I rolled my shoulders, and Kael said nothing until we stood across from one another, only a few feet of stone floor between us.
Kael broke the silence first, his voice smooth and precise. "You don't strike me as someone meant to last long in a place like this."
I tilted my head. "And yet, here I am."
Kael's gaze narrowed slightly. "You have passion. But passion flickers. Glass doesn't."
I smirked. "You're right."
I felt my eyes lit with a faint glow—fire humming just beneath the surface.
"But fire melts glass."
The crowd stirred. The referee raised her hand. A beat. Then—"Begin." Kael raised one hand. The floating sword snapped into motion. A ripple of sound pulsed through the air, distorting space. I threw off my cloak and drew out both blades, stepping forward with my stance already set—Dawn was set to arrive. Our auras surged—and the match began.